A/N: A gift to my precious waifu ash-is-boss that's several months late; hope you still love me ;w;
Thank you to rebornfromash who pushed me through and for her eyes~
This idea came out of a convo together about Bucho's class but then...
Bonus is coming soon
She dreaded the day that approached, but Maka had to admit that there was a certain thrill that kept the anticipated alive. A mere semester ago, Life Drawing seemed to be an easy class that fulfilled her unit requirement, keeping her summer's count to the bare minimum, which would both keep her stress levels in check, as well as help her become eligible for a summer scholarship that paid for all of her classes. Although it wasn't ideal, Maka's passion for the arts kept her going. As the summer days grew longer and certainly warmer, she continued to scold herself for not studying the syllabus before the drop deadline passed.
The day that marked the beginning of their Nude Modeling Unit arrived on the same day as the summer equinox. Her bag dug into her shoulder as Maka's grip tightened over the strap. She was too stiff to realize the dull pain that she inflicted upon herself, but her thoughts kept her busy as she made her way to the art building.
The automatic door whooshed open, releasing a wave of cool air that brought her back into reality. She gritted her teeth, scorning her own steady steps as they brought her closer to her doom. It wasn't that she was against models, her entire class was built on them, but male nude models?! She was already uncomfortable around men unless she was drunk, and when she was drunk… well… either way, she certainly wished that she had at least been buzzed to help her get through just this day. The door was ajar when she made it to her classroom, as if it were beckoning her in, although her logic warned her otherwise. There was no use in prolonging her fate, so she stepped in proudly, squishing down any panic that rose within.
The atmosphere was already humming with pure excitement as her classmates whispered about the lone model that sat on a stool on the stage before them. He was a fine looking male specimen, though he was disappointingly (not that she was disappointed) fully clothed. His tan complexion contrasted with his stark, white hair and his t-shirt seemed to be a size too small for his statuesque form. It did nothing to hide his toned arms nor his wide chest that seemed to only add to the length of his torso. A wolf whistle from the back corner coaxed his eyes to flick to the sound, revealing them to be a stunning red. They scanned the room, until they caught the dazed eyes of a certain art student.
She was drawn closer as her body took no command from her brain, and instead positioned her at the very front of the room. The intensity that formed between them broke when Maka dipped her head, reaching for the notepad and pencil case in her bag to place on the easel in front of her. She kept her head down as the room continued to fill with students, bringing the whispers to loud comments about the good looking model. Both male and female voices mixed as they studied their subject with appreciation.
"He's more good looking than our last volunteer!" One girl sighed to her friends before bursting out in a fit of giggles.
"Do you think he's a professional model?"
Another boy began, "I think I saw him in a magazine-"
"No way, he looks too young! Professor Sterling said he was about twenty two."
"Ahh, so this is Soul?"
"His name is Soul?" Hushed whispers started to circulate once more.
"I wonder if he's single."
"If he isn't, I wonder if he's interested in-"
"Everyone, quiet down. We'll start our lesson now."
Maka snapped to attention at her professor's words, lifting her pen to take notes as he lectured on what to focus on, emphasizing how important well defined curves were as well as being confident in strokes. They briefly touched into negative space, then Professor Sterling placed down his chalk to reach for the eraser instead.
"Now, let's give a round of applause to Soul Evans, our model here today."
More than just clapping rose through the classroom as Soul waved his hand shyly. He pushed himself from the stool, standing to his feet before taking a bow. A switch flipped, quite literally by the professor, and rhythmic whistling played from his bluetooth speakers. He silently nodded to Soul, who flushed brightly, but nonetheless started to sway to the music. As a guitar strummed, his fingers slowly worked at his belt, flicking the end from the hook, and pulling it free. A few giggles broke, causing his blush to glow a deep shade of pink.
When the voice in the song sang, "How do you fit all that… in dem jeans?" Maka slapped her hand to her mouth.
Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle.
Soul hooked his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, turning the the side, and started to roll his torso. His thin shirt did nothing to hide each of his abs as his chest and abdomen worked together in perfect harmony. Screams and whoops roared as his body undulated to the beat. He parted his mouth slightly, unveiling his sharp canines that were biting his lower lip. His eyes flicked to the right at Maka and a tongue flicked over his teeth, causing her to drop her pencil, though the drop was lost to the sound of squeals.
His hands moved upwards to the hem of his shirt, slowly dragging the edge across his stomach, uncovering his treasure trail first, then all ten of his well-defined abs. His tan body ceased its movements as he tugged the shirt over his head and flung it to the corner of the room. Soul's face relaxed more as he took in the the reaction of the students who continued to egg him on. He made quick work of the button of his jeans.
"Hot damn it." The song continued, "Your booty like two planets."
He turned around and moved his ass in a circular motion. His shoulders were as glorious as his chest, if not better, and his back dimples were as deep as the shit Maka was in. She couldn't look away as the jeans slid over his bare bottom. Dear death, he had been going commando. He leaned over as each round cheek popped into view, giving her a full view of his firm bottom. Soul lifted his legs from his pants, and they, too, were flung to where his shirt was laying.
"Cuz you know what to do with that big, fat butt."
Wiggle Wiggle Wiggle.
Faster than Maka could scream, he turned around, and his flaccid dick bounced freely in all its glory. It swung back and forth as he thrusted forward in time to the beat. The thrusting might have seemed vulgar and sensual had it not been for the fact that his cock resembled a limp noodle. Maka couldn't take her eyes off of his nudity as she reached into the bag that dropped from her lap to the ground. She was hypnotized by the swinging motion, unable to tear her focus away to join in with the laughter that surrounded her.
When her fingers brushed her wallet, she grasped it tightly, yanking it out just as Soul was now making a figure eight with his dick. His hands were behind his head and his own eyes were closed, too lost in the song to notice anything around him. Maka shakingly opened her wallet, and started to dig through for loose change, closing in on three bills that she gathered in her hand. As the next verse began, her brain was already fried from the show. Soul began to jump, throwing his hands above his head, and the peen was thrown around wildly, flopping like a fish on the pier.
It was now or never. Maka drew back her hand, and released the change, making it rain. But rather than bills falling, it was Soul who dropped to his knees with his hands over his dick. He howled in pain, slamming his forehead to the wooden platform as he simmered to whimpers. His body toppled over, landing with a thud, and he curled up into a ball.
The professor ran out of the room as students squawked and cried, shouting incoherent words and knocking over the easels in front of them. Maka stared forward, too shocked to begin to process what just happened. Slowly, she dragged her eyes over to his body, and a pink wallet laid beside him. A wallet? She trembled, willing herself to look down at the bills that were still clutched in her fist. Oh shit.
She dropped the cash, watching as it fluttered to the ground by her feet, mortified. Professor Sterling sped back in with an ice pack and a towel, wrapping the former in the latter, and handed it to Soul, who gingerly pressed it against his swollen balls.
"Well class, until our model recovers, please continue to finish the sketches from last week." He patted Soul's back. "Whenever that may be."
The music continued to play on loop, until a girl finally switched the song to Blackmill.
By the end of the class, each student had sore cheeks and abs of their own as they compared each other's drawings. Every sketch was of a beautiful male model, with a small bump on the side of his dick, and a wallet that laid behind the stool. By the time Soul asked for the girl who the wallet in his hand belonged to, a group of friends pointed to the seat where only three bills gathered, their owner long gone from the scene of the crime with only her canvas in her place.